Cheater, Cheater
by WingedWarrior16
Summary: Max has had enough of Fang and his "bad decisions".
1. Chapter 1

"Max! Baby, c'mon, don't do this!" Fang shouted after the blonde. She paused in her tracks on her way into the house.

Spinning around, Max stormed up to him, "Don't you ever call me that; I'm not your 'baby'. Not anymore." She shoved at Fang's shoulder, making him stumble back into his car, before walking purposefully inside.

Max slammed the mahogany door loudly, locking it with the deadbolt. Iggy rushed into the foyer after the noise. "Max?"

"Yeah, Iggy, it's me." she answered, sliding down the front door to sit. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested a moment.

"Max, what's going on? When you called you sounded upset; are you hurt, is Fang hurt - " Iggy paused. "Where is Fang?"

She didn't want to answer that. "Where are the kids?" she asked instead.

The blonde went still. "In bed, just like you asked." With silent steps, he sat down next to her and waited.

The two were silent for a moment, before a small sniffle broke through.

"It happened again, Ig." Max sounded tired, broken. "He did it again."

Iggy sucked in a breath. He had figured something like this had happened, but still... he had hoped. "You mean..?" he trailed off.

Max nodded before remembering he couldn't see it. "Yeah." Her voice was rough, the tears being held back detectable even without the boy's heightened sense.

Iggy didn't know what to say. What was there to say anyway? He was saved trying to think of something when the door at their backs shook violently.

Borne from years of practice and necessity, the two twenty-two year olds instantly jumped up to face the door, and any threat that would come with it. The door shook again with a bang, the locks straining to hold.

"Unlock the damn door, Max!" It was Fang.

At the sound of his voice, Max gave up her defensive stance to hide herself behind Iggy. The blonde jumped at Max's hands on his shoulders.

"I can't, Igs," she whispered. "I can't talk to him right now."

Iggy turned to her, lightly holding her hands in his, "I got this. You won't have to talk to him. Not tonight. I promise."

She nodded, "Thank you."

The blonde nodded, and Max hurried into the kitchen. There was now a door and a wall in between the foyer; Max didn't want to face Fang, but she sure as hell wasn't going to leave Iggy all alone to deal with an emotional and irrational Fang. She wasn't stupid.

Max could hear the deadbolt being unlocked, followed by the slam of the door and the heavy stomp of Fang's boots.

"Fang, look, it's not the best time -" Iggy started.

"Leave me alone, Ig, this has nothing to do with you," Fang said, roughly shouldering past his brother.

Iggy had quick reflexes, though, and grabbed the other man's upper arm.

"Iggy, let me go."

"I will if you turn around. She doesn't want to talk to you. Not yet."

A muscle in the dark haired boy's jaw clenched. "You know I can't walk away. I can't leave, not like this."

"Then I'm sorry, Fang - " Iggy was cut off abruptly.

Fang had brought up his free hand and punched the blonde so hard he stumbled backwards.

"What the fuck!" the blonde yelled, holding a hand to his jaw.

Feeling his muscles tense familiarly, Iggy launched himself at his brother. With his arms wrapped around Fang, he smashed the dark haired boy into the wall, pinning him there. Iggy could feel the wall shake, could hear Fang's heavy breaths as he struggled to unlace himself from the blonde's grasp, he could even hear the small, muffled shriek from the direction he knew the kitchen was. Max. Max was watching this.

Iggy's thoughts drifted for only a nanosecond to the brunette, but it was enough. It was enough that his concentration slipped ever so slightly. It was enough that Fang was able to slip an arm out from under his hold.

Once, twice, three times, Iggy was hit in the stomach. He grunted, but didn't back down.

With a swiftness borne only from years of practice, the blonde was able to maneuver his leg, blocking more punches, and landing a few kicks of his own.

Apparently, Fang didn't like that. Using the wall as leverage, Fang pushed off, making Iggy lose his footing and slamming him easily onto the ground. From there, it was like shooting fish in a barrel for Fang. Iggy had always relied on his sense of hearing to fight: hearing the rustle of clothing, the cutting of air as it comes closer; he relied on the feel of his opponent, subtle leans and turns that told him where the next attack was coming from. It wasn't like that with Fang. Fang was completely silent: his clothes didn't rustle, the rush of air coming only after it was too late to avoid the attack. His body gave nothing away either, his balance close to perfectly balance.

Of course, this was not the first time the two had fought - living together in close quarters your whole life can get infuriating - but it was one of the worst fights they'd had. In fact, the last time Iggy could remember a fight this intense, they were both about nine years old, and both had come out of it with a few broken ribs, Fang a broken arm, and Iggy a broken nose.

But even that was fought on a more even keel than this one. Fang had been.. not necessarily slower, but more detectable then. Now it was like fighting a ghost.

"What the hell, Fang!"

Above Iggy, Fang halted his assault and looked up. Max had emerged from the kitchen, the door still swinging wildly behind her.

At once, Fang's face drained and he looked entirely apologetic, "Max..."

Max shook her head, her ponytail swinging as she marched over, and with a fluidity uniquely hers, kicked her boyfriend solidly in the chest. He flew backwards onto his back, but the girl paid him no mind, instead going to kneel next to Iggy, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder.

The blonde waved her hand away, going to sit up, despite Max's protests. "I'm fine," he coughed, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.

"No, you're not," Max said, but let him get up. He stood, albeit shakily, and leaned against the foyer wall.

"Listen to me, Max -" Fang started, standing, his hands up as if approaching a small animal.

"No, Fang, I'm not going to listen to you! You should leave. Now," Max said, turning her back to him and walking back towards the kitchen. Fang followed.

Max had just pushed the door closed when a hand gripped her wrist. She pulled her hand forward, but he wouldn't let go. Trying one more time, Max was able to pry her hand from Fang's. Spinning around, she kept an eye on the advancing man until she felt the cold granite of the the countertop behind her. A beat of panic crossed her at the thought of being cornered by an emotional Fang, and could immediately feel her instincts taking over.

Reaching blindly behind her, she groped down the countertop. Tossing napkins and things out of the way, she found what she was looking for. Gripping tightly, Max pulled a knife from the butchers block and held it firmly out in front of her.

Fang stopped immediately in his tracks.

"Put down the knife, Max," he said slowly.

"Then get the hell away from me."

He ran a hand through his black hair, "Jesus, Max, I just want to talk to you. You've got to let me explain!"

"Explain what, Fang? It's been eight goddamn months and I've had to listen to you 'explain' your bullshit answers three times. Three! Give me one reason why I should listen instead of kicking your sorry ass from here to next week." Max's voice was hurt, but as steady as her hand.

Fang's moth opened and closed. "Because I love you," he finally said.

Max launched the knife with no hesitation, missing Fang only by his quick reflexes.

"Bullshit," Max hissed, shouldering past him.

"You're a fucking psychopath, you know that?" Fang called out after her.

"Well," Max yelled back, storming down the hall towards her bedroom, "then maybe you should leave me alone."

Max reached her room, slamming the door closed, when an all too familiar boot wedged itself in between the wall and door, preventing it from slamming.

"Fuck, Max, calm down," Fang panted as he slowly won the war for the door. "She meant nothing, honest. It was one bad decision!"

The blonde let go of the door to retreat farther into the room. She could feel the tears building in her eyes, threatening to spill. "'One bad decision'? Fang, that's what you said the first time. And then the second. And the third, and do you know what? I'm done with it. I don't care. Have as many 'bad decisions' as you want, just leave me out of them."

Fang stepped inside the room.

"NO!" Max shrieked. "Get Out!"

"What? Max, this is our room, where would you like me to go?"

She shook her head, "It's not our room; not anymore." As the blonde spoke, the tears she so desperately tried to hide leaked out, staining her cheeks. She made no move to stop or wipe them away. She wanted Fang to realize just how much he had hurt her. "There is no more us. If there's no more us then _we_ can't have a room." Max was proud that her voice came out strong and steady, despite the waterfall coming out of her eyes. "Now get your _crap_ out of here before I throw it out."

The man flinched at her words, but stayed still. "Max," his voice was barely audible. It came out broken, strangled. "Max, please don't do this."

"You're the one who did this. You started this when you got cozy with that whore eight months ago...and then two months.. and today. Now move your shit, or I'll toss it myself," Max glared at him and counted to three. When time was up and he still hadn't moved, she grabbed their old clock radio from the nightstand and chucked it into the hallway. The plaster cracked, sprinkling the plush carpet with specks of white.

Her hand reached out again, but stopped. She finally got a response, albeit not the one she intended.

"You think you know it all, don't you?" Fang cried, with big, sweeping arm gestures and a ridiculous tone only used when his patience has been entirely strained. "The great Maximum Ride understands everything! She finds one thread, and thinks its a sweater, but guess what, Max - you don't know everything! You can't! You come at me with absurd accusations and barely give me a minute to understand what's going on before you're tossing me out. Who the fuck do you even think you are?"

"I think I was your fucking girlfriend! And if I'm so dumb, help me understand. Help me understand, exactly, how making out with a bottle blonde in the back of the supermarket wasn't cheating. Or the pictures of the red-head on your laptop? How were they not cheating? Really, Fang, I am just dying to know!"

Fang threw up his hands in frustration, "I can't even talk to you when you're like this!"

"Good! I don't want to talk to you either!"

"And do you want to know what else? If you have a problem rooming with me, then maybe you should be the one to leave. Because no matter how much of my shit you throw into that hallway, I'm coming back here every night."

The flow of tears had subsided now, and Max dragged a hand down her face to clean it, "Fine, whatever."

"Good," Fang said, walking in and sitting down on the bed. "Good luck finding someone to room with your moody ass."

Max had her eyes closed, her hands rubbing out the monumental headache behind her eyes. Her brown eyes, however, snapped open at her ex's comment. "I'm moody?" She glared. "You're only saying that because I'm not brainwashed by your charms anymore."

He laughed, "That's only because you have no brain to wash."

Max did not answer, instead rolling her eyes.

"If you can be rational, you can still room here," Fang said, amusement clear in his voice.

"She can room with me."

It was a quiet statement, spoken from the doorway. Both Max and Fang turned to the hallway.

Iggy stood there, still leaning on the door frame, but looking considerably more steady on his feet. There was dried blood under his nose and spotted on his white t-shirt.

He turned his sightless eyes on Max, "You can room with me."

Max smiled.

"At least until you two work this out," he finished.

Max smile disappeared and was replaced with one that was almost too sweet. "Thanks, Ig," she said, walking towards him, "but I think it'll be a _long_ time until we work this out." Max swept out of the room without looking back, giving Iggy a kiss on the cheek as she passed.

XxX


	2. Chapter 2

The table was silent for breakfast, save for the clinking of silverware as they ate. All six bird-kids were seated around a mountain of freshly cooked pancakes - an event that was usually marked with excitement and fanfare - but was instead met with cautious steps and tentative attempts as conversation. All of which were quickly stomped out.

Max and Fang were still studiously ignoring each other, their eyes glued to their plates as they ate. The rest of the family were not so comfortable with the silence: Nudge and Gazzy fidgeted in their seats, throwing wary glances back and forth. Angel was taking turns to glare heavily between Max and Fang, cutting her pancakes with much more force than necessary.

Iggy, however, seemed most uncomfortable. Seated in between the two exes, he sat rigid in his chair, his usual smirk and morning banter ominously absent. Iggy's sightless eyes roamed the table, sometimes lingering a moment too long before moving on again, as though he was afraid to stare, even if he wasn't actually seeing anything. The blonde also became incredibly restless as the meal went on, taking any and every opportunity to excuse himself from the table; sometimes it was as simple as refilling his glass, while other times he said they needed more sugar or syrup.

The silence was deafening, though no one dared to break it for the longest time.

Nudge had tried to end it as soon as she sat, but when her morning greeting was met with cold glares, she quickly shut up. Iggy, always the most boisterous at any given time, didn't try a greeting, instead opting for solemn nods to each as they arrived. Gazzy had never been a morning person, usually half asleep through the first meal, but the eerie quiet had pierced him more than the noisiest conversation. He sat straight and alert, trying his hardest not to disrupt the stillness.

While everyone seemed unnerved by the quiet, Angel seemed to get angrier with every word not said. She didn't even try a greeting or any kind, seeming to wake up angry and continuing on that way. Every once in a while, when someone would drop a fork or clink a glass, her glare would be diverted from the two oldest to the offender, who would shrink away from the youngest sibling's intensity.

It was Iggy's fourth trip to get more orange juice when she lost it. Slapping down her knife with a reverberating clank. The five sitting around her jumped.

"This is ridiculous," Angel said, breaking the steady hush. Her voice sounded forceful and booming after so long without it. All eyes were on her. "Is anyone going to explain _why_ Max isn't sleeping in her room anymore?"

Gazzy and Nudge paused, pancake halfway to their mouths to stare. Max and Fang shared an incidental look with each other before turning sharply away. Neither said anything.

"Oh please," Angel continued on ruthlessly, "It's been two weeks already! Are we just supposed to pretend that everything is perfectly fine around here, because it's not. We're all tiptoeing around you two; this house is a mine field and somebody's got to explain what happened!"

"Let it go, Ange," Fang growled in his low baritone.

Rolling her eyes, Angel turned back to her food with a huff. Her movements were exaggerated and hesitant.

Three of the bird kids watched the youngest out of the corner of their eyes, They couldn't be sure, of course, but they had grown up with Angel, and could definitely tell when something just wasn't right. Max didn't though. She was distracted. Sure, she knew there was no way that Angel wasn't going to give up so easily, and Max half-heartedly threw up walls in her mind, but it was too late.

Angel had always been extremely perceptive, able to pick out which of her siblings would be the easiest targets.

Max had her blonde head turned towards the window, when it happened. Her head snapped back to the table, her eyes finding Angel's. The fork that idled in her hand slammed down onto the table with an earsplitting clang. "Angel!"

Picking her head up, Angel looked every bit her name. All blue eyes and innocent face, she asked, "What?"

"Don't act like you're some sweet little girl, Angel!" Max cried, standing up, sending her chair skidding across the floor behind her. "We both know you tried to get in my head."

Angel opened her mouth to speak, but Max cut her off.

"No, Angel. You had no right," she hissed, backing up. "You promised me. You promised that you wouldn't invade my privacy like that."

"Max, I'm -" se started, small tears pricking her eyes.

"Whatever, Ange. I have to get ready for work." Max turned, her hair whipping behind her as she stormed out of the dining room. She knocked into Iggy, a glass and a pitcher of juice in his hands, in the doorway, turning him around and sending orange liquid on the floor.

She continued on, roughly pulling a towel from the hall closet and locking herself in the bathroom.

She turned the shower on with a quick turn of her wrist. Max blew out a long breath as she leaned her palms against the counter. Her head was down, her long blonde hair falling in her face, though she couldn't see them. Her eyes were closed and she focused on her breathing; focused on anything but the fierce anger boiling through her veins.

Angel had no right to invade her mind like that. Max wasn't even upset at what Angel might have saw - it was just the principal of it. If Max didn't want to share something private, there shouldn't be a way to force it out.

They had talked about it.

XxX

Before they had moved into this house, about eight months ago, Max had confronted Angel. There had been a rather bad fight between her and Nudge the night before: Nudge swore that she hadn't broken Angel's favorite sparkling hair clip. It was one of the few objects that Angel prized. With it's elaborate silver bow glazed over with silver and gold sparkles, it was only found in a small, now boarded-up palm-reading shop in San Francisco. It just so happened that when they were all packing up their belongings from the motel room they were stating in, Angel could't find it. She tore the whole room apart, unpacking everyone else's bag, upturning the furniture, all to no avail. Angel swore she didn't lose it, and that Nudge had always wanted it. Of course, Nudge denied any involvement in stealing, but Angel insisted, and refused to leave until the clip was given back to her.

Two days the flock was forced to stay in the motel, through countless fights. Angel had tried multiple times to find out through her powers whether or not Nudge had it, but could rarely get through. Finally, however, Angel powered through any and all walls Nudge had concocted to keep her sister out, bursting into her mind with such force that it left Nudge screaming, writhing on the floor. She couldn't sleep for days afterwards.

She also did not take the hair clip.

So, while the rest of the flock wrapped Nudge in a pile of blankets and comforters, Max flew into the nearest forest with Angel. She yelled and kicked and screamed and threatened until her voice was hoarse and her throat sore. Angel cried more than any of them had seen in a long time. Her shoulders shook violently, her knees gave out and she had to sit down, her hands covering her face.

Through her choking, shuddering breathes, she said, "I-I'm sorry, Max, honest. I didn't want to hurt her, it... it just happened!"

Seeing her baby like this, broken and sobbing, softened Max's anger, if only a little. She got down on her knees in front of Angel, and pried the little girl's hands from her face.

"Max..." she whispered. "Max, please don't be mad at me. Don't be mad, Max, I didn't mean it. I didn't, Max, I swear."

"Shhh, Sweetie, I know," Max soothed. "You didn't mean to hurt Nudge; it was an accident. But I need you to not do that again, okay?"

Angel nodded.

"And I mean ever. No more mind reading within the flock; not unless they give you permission, alright? I can't have this happen again."

Again, Angel nodded.

"Promise me, Ange. Promise you won't do it to us again - any of us."

Angel held Max's hands tight and met her eyes. "I promise."

XxX

The steam from the shower filled the room and fogged the mirrors when Max finally got out. She wiped a clean spot to see her reflection in the mirror. Picking up a comb, Max tried to untangle her web of hair, and, with a single-minded determination, got it to lay flat. Soaking in any last drop of steamy heat, Max opened the door and slipped out to the hallway.

Iggy;s room - now her room - was noticeably cooler than the rest of the house, and made goosebumps pop up all over her arms and legs, where she wasn't covered by her fluffy towel. Rubbing a towel over her head, Max tried to dry her hair, but only managed to tangle the blonde strands. Max growled in frustration, throwing the towel on the bed.

She was halfway through pulling on a pair of skinny jeans when the door banged open. Max spun around, the pants twisting around her thighs and causing her to tumble down.

A familiar laugh echoed through the room as a blonde head collapsed onto the bed.

Max flicked her hair out of her face to see her brother, "Iggy? What the hell, I'm getting changed!"

He rolled his sightless eyes, "Yes, because I am _so _going to spy on you. Please."

Squirming on the floor, Max managed to pull her jeans on all the way. Now, as she laid on the hard wood, her hair still damp, she wore only jeans and a bra, and laughed.

"It's not the point that you can't see, it's just the principal of it!" she said.

Iggy grimaced and pulled the damp towel from under him, tossing it on the floor. He waved his hand dismissively, "Principal, schmincipal. If you're so concerned about it, get some clothes on already."

Max huffed, but still smiled as she flailed around for her shirt.

"But really, Max," Iggy continued, "the kids deserve to know what happened. It's just.. weird around here when the two of you are in the same room."

Standing in front of the mirror now, Max froze in the process of pulling up her hair. She guessed that he was right; it was awkward when the were in the same room, and she supposed it wasn't exactly fair to keep the rest of the flock in the dark. She justified it before as not concerning them, but it kind of was, as they all had to live in the same house.

Max nodded slowly, continuing with her hair. "Yeah..." she said slowly, "Yeah, I guess they should know. I'll tell them tonight."

Behind her, Iggy let out a long breath, "Good. I was really hoping you'd say that because... I kind of already told them."

Max spun around, her hair falling down behind her, "You what?"

Iggy raised his pale hands in front of him, "Max, calm down. You just said that they have a right to know, and now they know!"

"Yes, but they shouldn't have heard it from you!"

"And who were they going to hear it from? You? _Fang_? I waited for that - I waited two weeks. Two weeks of hushed questions and quieted speculations whenever one of you entered the room. Your family has been tiptoeing around you two like you're bombs just waiting to explode and it's maddening!"

Max didn't say anything. How could she have missed it? I mean, sure she had felt a trickle or two of tension still between her and Fang, but Max had thought it was only her, not that everyone else felt it too.

But then what about the eerie and awkward silences? There used to be a time when none of them even remembered how silence sounded, and now that's all they hear.

In the back of her mind, she had always known, she had simply just chose to ignore it. She was supposed to be their leader - she always had been. She was supposed to protect them, make sure they were one hundred percent in all aspects; and that was the one she had failed at.

Max could feel the guilt and shame creep up her body, chilling her to her core as the horrible realization made itself known to her. Iggy was right.

She swallowed thickly, pulling back her hair blindly.

Iggy sat silently on the bed, his hands clasped between his legs.

"Look, Max - " he started quietly, and there was an astonishing difference in his voice. Where before he was harsh and hurtful, though not loud, it was now soft, and slightly apologetic.

"No, Ig," Max said, shaking her head, "No, you're right. I'm... I'm glad that you told them." She wiped at a tear on her cheek. "At least they know now."

Iggy heard the tremble in her voice and stood, coming towards her. "Max..." he said, wrapping her in a monstrous hug of his ridiculously long limbs.

Max held him tightly, laughing shakily at her irrational - and highly embarrassing - behavior.

She pulled back, wiping at the leftover traces of tears with the back of her hand. "I gotta go to work."

Iggy nodded, "Yeah, right. But we're still on for the grocery store after your shift?"

"Definitely," she smiled. Both turned away, though as Max stepped foot into the hall, she stopped and turned. With hurried steps she stood in the doorway again.

"Igs?" she said.

Iggy turned around, a hand still lodged in his pale, strawberry blonde hair.

"Thanks."

With that, Max spun again, and carried herself to work.

What she did not see was that, as Iggy turned back around felt the warm sun on his skin through the window and pushed his hair back, he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

The sunlight felt warm and amazing against Iggy's face. He was so relaxed that for a few minutes, he swore he dozed off. And he didn't mind all that much.

And that was how Max found him twelve minutes later: head thrown over the headrest, legs stretched out under the steering wheel, glossy Aviators glinting over his sightless blue eyes that perfectly matched the 1969 Chevy Convertible he was sitting in.

Max smiled vaguely at the memory of the old car...

XxX

The Flock had been living in their quiet little town, and things had been pretty calm. Max was relaxing with her back against their couch, playing a board game with Angel and Gazzy, when the door burst open.

The three snapped to attention, all on high alert, when an amused voice floated in, "Calm yourselves, geez. It's only us."

The youngest members laughed as Iggy shuffled past the doorway, hands filled with bags upon bags of food fresh from the market. With a little prompting, Angel and Gazzy followed him to help unpack and organize their new food. Fang came through the doorway next, sitting himself down on the couch just next to where Max was seated on the floor.

She looked up at him, eyebrow raised, "You're not going to help unpack?"

Fang's lip quirked slightly, shaking his head. "No way am I going to miss this."

"Miss what?" she asked, but he just looked towards the doorway to the kitchen.

Max followed his gaze and only had to wait a minute before Iggy slid down the hardwood floor, nearly losing his balance on his way to the window.

"Max, Max! Check it - Check it out!" he said. Iggy leaned to the window, opening the creaking window, letting in a cold breeze.

Rather reluctantly - and justifiably cautious - Max went to the window and saw it.

Parked in the middle of their _gorgeous_ lawn were two deep tire tracks belonging to an old, rusting, decrepit car.

"You bought a car?" Max got out, still a bit in shock.

"Yeah," Iggy beamed. "Isn't she a beauty?"

Max hesitated. "It's broken."

"Well... yeah.." Iggy said, slightly put-out by her lack of enthusiasm.

Turning away from the window, Max asked Fang, "Does it even run?"

Fang shrugged, "We got it here, didn't we?"

Max glared at him, "Why do we even need a car? We can _fly_."

"But Max - "

"And how did you two even afford this?"

Fang raised his hands in surrender, "It's not _my_ car. I just... handled the transaction."

"'_Handled the transaction'_? What does that even mean?"

"_Max."ˆ _Iggy said. She turned back to him. "I bought it. I had a deal with one of the guys down at the junkyard. For the scraps they would have gotten, like, $500, so I made them a better offer." Iggy paused. "$550."

Max opened her mouth, but Iggy beat her to it. "I had money saved for a... project of mine, but figured that we're, y'know, _'assimilating' _that it would be better spent elsewhere. And what better way to blend in than to get a kick-ass car?"

"Igs, you can't keep a car - you can't drive," Max objected.

Iggy placed a pale hand on her shoulder, "I'm not a child, Max, and I'm keeping this car. My decision, not yours." Then, beaming up at Fang, "Ready?"

Fang smiled, "Absolutely."

The two worked feverishly on that car; every morning at the crack of dawn, both would make the trek down to the junkyard for parts or advice of what a car exactly needs. Then, with the small exceptions of meals, the two boys were attached to that car. From knowing almost nothing about the inner workings of cars, the two got it in running condition, and looking like it wouldn't spontaneously combust upon ignition, in a little over a month.

And when the night of the great unveiling approached, it was a big deal to the Flock.

No one except for the two boys were allowed outside that day, and all windows that might have been in view of the old Chevy were closed tight. They waited until it got dark before shuffling the rest of the family out onto the front yard. It was pitch black.

Until Iggy hit a button that ignited the sky. Dozens of spotlights and old Christmas lights illuminated the lawn, shining over the glossy paint of the car.

The top was up originally, but it was retracted before everybody was allowed - after taking off their shoes to ensure it stayed clean - inside. The engine purred sure and loud underneath them, and it didn't take long for it to be the envy of not only the rest of the Flock, but of all the onlookers whenever it roared into town.

Even Max warmed up to it.

Eventually.

XxX

Untying her apron, Max threw it in the strawberry blonde's lap.

"Please tell me you didn't drive this here," she said with a smile. Iggy did have his license, and he was fully capable of driving - somehow, Max was still unsure - but Max was never comfortable with him driving.

Iggy slowly pulled off his Aviators, wincing at the bright sunlight. "Nudge drove me over."

Max looked left to right.

Iggy waved her off, sliding across to the passenger side, "She flew back. Said she'd tather nap than go food shipping."

Flipping her hair back and putting the car in reverse, Max laughed, "Her loss."

XxX

"Hmm, chicken noodle soup!" said Max, dumping seven cans into their cart.

The metal shopping cart squeaked under the added weight, scuffling against the linoleum floor of the supermarket.

"Did you know that the first soup was made of hippopotamus?" said Iggy, as he nearly knocked over a stand advertising cup-cake tin liners.

Max wrinkled her nose, "Gross." Iggy laughed.

Picking up another can, she asked, "Beans?"

Iggy raised an eyebrow, "Really, Max? When we live with a guy named _Gazzy?_"

"True," Max dropped it back onto the shelf as if it had burned her.

The pair turned the isle. "Aisle.. 12," Max announced.

Iggy nodded, "Yeah, we need worcestershire sauce."

Max looked at him, "Worcher- what?"

"Black bottle, orange label, pretty water-y?" Iggy described as Max searched the shelves.

It took a little longer than it should have, but the blonde finally found it. She slammed it a little harder than necessary into the cart - Iggy might have winced - with an triumphant smile.

"Got it!"

The red-head nodded, "Good. Did you know it's made almost exclusively of anchovies?"

Max wrinkled her nose, "Did not need to hear that."

Iggy smirked, "Yeah, well. What's next?"

Max walked a few steps before grabbing something roughly from the shelves. "Animal crackers?" the girl asked, spinning around, the red box between her hands.

The strawberry blonde said nothing for a moment. He looked thoughtful, maybe even a little confused.

"What, nothing?" The girl's smile was teasing, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Have I finally stumped the great and all-knowing Iggy?"

He scoffed at her, untangling his hands from where they leaned on the cart. "You wish," he said, "I was only trying to decide if I wanted to let you know that the strings on the individual boxes were used to hang the treats on a Christmas Tree, or that fifty-four different animals have been depicted on animal crackers since their debut in 1902." His smile was much too smug as Max planted the boxes in the cart.

"You just wait," she said, continuing her walk towards the produce aisle, "one of these days I'll find something."

He laughed, following her voice. "Maybe one day. But that is not this day."

Iggy parked the cart nearby before skillfully making his way to where Max was standing.

The produce was, in Iggy's opinion, the worst aspect of the supermarket. It was always colder than the rest of the store, the different fruit scents all mixing and combining into one big toxic cloud hanging in the air and making his dizzy. And the worst part of it was that it wasn't an aisle at all; there were shelves and things on the walls, sure, but the whole section was tucked away into a corner, which created a confusing semi circle with no distinct in or out, and no precise places to walk. It made Iggy's life infinitely more difficult.

At that moment, he and Max were standing next to a long trough, with shallow, almost useless separators that sectioned one fruit from another. It was about waist high for Iggy, so as he followed Max's footsteps as she searched for the exact things they needed, he allowed his hands to ghost over the different fruits, identifying them one at a time. Oranges, grapes, blueberries, cartons of strawberries - Iggy shook his head. There was no order to any of it.

In front of him, Max's sneakers stopped. So did he. His hands sneaked over the produce.

"Bananas?"

Iggy had recognized the fruit just before she said it.

Max held the banana in her hand, facing out at him, looking at Iggy playfully.

"Ah, bananas, the most dangerous fruit," said he. "Did you know that Britain once had a reported three-hundred injuries involving bananas in one year?"

She laughed, "No way! That cannot be tru-"

A man tapped Max on the shoulder. She turned slightly, but his hand did not move. The guy was nothing new: dark brown eyes, maybe an inch or two over Max's own five-foot seven, but there was something in his face that made her want to run as far as she could away from him. It may have been the way he looked at her, raking his eyes down her body in an obvious leer, pausing much too long for her liking at some points. Or perhaps it was the fact that his hand tightened on her shoulder when Max tried to turn to look at Iggy,who was a little confused, but could guess well enough what was occurring.

Max turned back to the man, snapping her fingers in front of his face, "Eyes up here, bud. Can I help you with something?"

His greasy smile only got wider, "I sure hope so, Sweetheart. You like bananas?"

Both gazes went down to the yellow fruit still in her hand.

Max didn't answer. she was almost positive of what he was going to say, and she didn't like it one bit.

Normally, this guy would have been on the floor so fast for even touching her, but she couldn't - at least not here. The Flock wanted to stay in this town, they could blend into this town, and they had put too much work to throw it all away now because of some creep. And after lecturing the kids over and over about behavior such as, oh, I don't know, knocking out a guy taller and probably twice your size, in plain view, without breaking a sweat, for no reason besides that he touched you, Max had no platform to justify it.

Max cursed the security cameras mounted on the ceiling. Seriously, who was that worried about fruit thieves?

"'Cause I got a banana that's better than that one: when you bite it, it bites back."

The guy was leering down at Max, looking as smug as ever, like there was no way any woman could turn his down with a line like that. The brunette, on the other hand, was disgusted. She slowly and painstakingly uncurled his fingers from her shoulder. She held it in her hand, nearly crushing it, though not as hard as she would have liked.

"Listen here, you good-for-nothing scumbag: never touch me ever again. How you could ever think that that line will get you _anywhere_ with a woman, and if I ever hear it or any other like it again, I will drag you outside by your hair and make you forget it. Understand?"

He nodded painfully. Max all but threw his hand down with a sharp, "Then go!"

The guy scrambled back across the produce section to his friend, but Max paid them no mind. She had turned back to Iggy, dropping the banana she had been previously holding in favor of another.

"So, what do you think," she asked Iggy, "banana split sundaes tonight, or what?"

But Iggy was too preoccupied. He was staring at a spot just above Max's shoulder, his forehead scrunched up in concentration.

"Excuse me," he said, brushing past Max. She turned, calling out his name, but he did not turn back.

He walked across the produce section towards the two men, including the one who tried to hit on Max. They were laughing.

Iggy walked right up to them, clearing his throat to get their attention.

Max was too far away to hear what was said, but some words were exchanged, and then...

_all hell broke loose... _

Well, at least for the two creeps.

Iggy punched the creep's friend, making him stumble backwards, before turning to the original Creep. A quick uppercut to his jaw, and a knee to the stomach, and he was on the floor, out cold. His friend stood up, then, and seeing the Creep on the floor, charged Iggy. Iggy, of course, knew it was coming, however, and was able to toss him over his hip. He crashed into a standing bucket of mangos, causing them to crash over him and the floor.

Iggy watched all this with detached interest, before nodding to himself, as if he had decided something. He turned back to the Creep, still laying on the floor, clutching his stomach in pain, before grabbing a crate of apples and upturning in over the man.

Seeming satisfied with the chorus of pained groans from around him, he carefully stepped over the two men - and various apples and mangos - until he was standing back in his original spot in front of Max.

He took a deep breath before reaching out and taking the banana out of Max's stunned fingers.

"So," he said casually, "You're thinking sundaes tonight?"

XxX


	4. Chapter 4

XxX

Iggy sprinted up the steps, reaching the brown door before his companion, unlocking and holding it open for her. She brushed past him, not sparing a glance on her way to the kitchen.

A chorus of "Hey!"s sounded from the living room, where Angel, Fang, Gazzy, and Nudge sat around their old T.V., watching some movie Nudge had picked up last week. Max looked fondly on them as she dropped all her grocery bags onto the counter; normally, she would ask the younger ones to help, but she couldn't bring herself to interrupt them when they looked so content and... _normal. _Sure, they had their moments where it wasn't completely obvious that they were genetically mutated bird-kids that grew up and escaped from a secret government lab, but they so rarely looked like _this. _

All four were huddled on the carpet, their backs against the front of the couch, a blanket draped over them. They looked younger somehow, more vulnerable like this; their eyes were wide and trained on the screen in front of them - they didn't even move when a hand made its way out of the blanket,reaching over blindly to the bowl of popcorn resting on Fang's lap.

So instead, Max sent them a soft "We're back," and started unpacking the many food stuffs alone. Bag after bag, she gently took them out, first placing them on the counter together before placing them individually in their correct cupboards and shelves. It was a laborious job that was sure to take up much of her time, but she didn't mind as much as she usually would have.

When most of the food was packed away, Max turned, a loaf of bread cradled in her arms, destined for the shelf next to the door. When she turned, however, she nearly dropped the bread in surprise; there, sitting on the counter in front of the cabinet was Iggy. Max wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, or how she had failed to notice him, but it was obvious that he knew she was there.

Max collected herself, "I got to get into the cabinet, Igs."

Iggy didn't move though. His hands were braced against the marble countertop, his legs dangling, so long that they almost touched the floor. His head was bowed, his sightless eyes closed.

"Igs? Bread?" she asked again. This time, Iggy acknowledged her, raising his head to meet her. He slid off the counter, giving Max enough room to put away the last of the groceries. When she closed the cabinet, she looked around the kitchen. noting how clean it looked now, cleaner than it's looked in days, before turning to leave.

"Max, what's up?" Iggy asked.

Max turned to him, realizing that Iggy was much closer than she expected. She shrugged, "I was going to go read this book I got yesterday. It's about this girl who finds out she's a mermaid, and her family lives near the ocean, and everyday she has to go and be a mermaid every morning or else she goes crazy - "

"Max."

She paused, her hands in mid-air as she stopped talking.

"That's not what I mean, Max," Iggy said, his tone much more serious than Max was used to.

"Then what do you mean?"

"You've hardly spoken to me since the store. You're not really mad about that, are you?"

Max crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable. "Yeah, actually, I am a little pissed about that. I mean, what were you even thinking?"

"The guy was an asshole, what's the difference?"

Max side-stepped the blonde into the hall, "The difference, Ig, is that we're trying to blend in. I've given this speech to the kids a thousand times, hell I've given it to you at least a hundred times, and you completely disregarded it."

"He was touching you, Max. _Touching you! _Not to mention the things he said after he left - you might not have been able to hear it, but I did, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him get away with it!"

Max stopped walking and spun around, knocking into Iggy, who wasn't paying attention to her steps. "You don't think I hated him touching me? That I wanted to knock his damned teeth out? Because I did!"

The blonde took half a step back, "Then why didn't you? Then what's the point of this argument if you wanted to do the exact same thing?"

"Because you shouldn't have done it! _I _didn't do anything because we're trying to _blend in_. Knocking out two grown men in the middle of a grocery store without so much as a scratch? In plain view of a store-full of people and multiple security cameras? That is not blending in, Igs," Max turned, her hair swinging into Iggy's pale face.

He followed her into their shared room, closing the door with a soft _click_ behind him. He sighed, walking over to sit on his bed. "The camera in the produce section wasn't working," he said.

Max stopped, her body completely stretched as she reached for a book on a higher shelf than was comfortable. "The green light was on, it was definitely working. Trust me, I checked the minute his slimy hands got anywhere near me."

"I didn't say it wasn't _on_, I said it wasn't _working._ There wasn't a tape in it, so nothing was getting recorded. Nothing's been recorded since we've moved here, in fact."

Coming down from her tip-toes slowly, Max turned to look at him incredulously, "How could you possibly know that?"

He shrugged, "You can hear it.. Well, okay, _you_ can't hear it but there's a certain... whirring, maybe, like when a VCR is first inserted. Very distinctive, and very absent in the produce section."

"But cameras don't even use tapes anymore. It's all digital, which is probably why you couldn't hear it."

"So all the rest of the cameras use tapes except for the produce section?" he asked sarcastically. "C'mon, Max, give me some credit here."

Max's arms lifted and dropped uselessly at her sides, "Fine, so the camera wasn't working, a million people still saw you."

"Yes, those four old women buying squash in the corner will be scarred for life, I'm sure," he said carelessly, laying back, and tossing a tennis ball up to the ceiling.

Max groaned, finally grabbing the book and all but falling down on her bed across the room. "You're impossible, d'you know that?" she said, her arm falling over her eyes. "Why did you even care what those guys were saying about me?"

Iggy stopped, the tennis ball in his hand above his head. "I just... didn't like it, is all," he said.

"Well, what were they saying, at least?"

He sat up suddenly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, "It's not important, Max, it's over."

Iggy's tone came out sharper than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. Max removed her arm to look up at him in surprise.

"Igs? What did they say?" she asked cautiously, sitting up as well.

"It was nothing," he said, "they were assholes."

"Well, I could have told you that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just curious."

"Don't be," Iggy said it much harsher.

"What is the big deal? Is it some sort of secret?"

"Why do you care so much, Max? It's over, done with, just let it go!"

Max stood up finally, "Why do _you_ care so much?"

Iggy was pacing, running his hands through his hair almost violently. Max watched him confusedly, staying quiet as he walked.

Finally, suddenly, Iggy stopped, his back to her, his hand paused mid-stroke. Then, so suddenly that Max took a surprised step backwards, Iggy spun around.

"Are you over Fang?" he asked.

"I, uh, what?" she stuttered, confused at what had just happened.

"Are you," he asked again, more clearly this time, as he took a step forward, "over Fang?"

Max nodded, "Yeah, I'm over him."

"Completely?"

She nodded again, "Completely."

Iggy stepped forward, deliberately slow.

"Igs, what are you talking about? What's this got to do with the guys at the store?"

Iggy was less than an arm's length away now, and slowly, slowly, he reached up a hand. With light fingers he traced the curve of Max's arm to her shoulder, until he paused. Iggy's pale hand now rested just below the girl's jaw, his thumb sweeping up in such a gentle touch that she shivered. Max's lips parted under his soft touch, and slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned forward. Inch by inch Iggy leaned in, until they were a hairs width apart; there he stopped. The blonde paused, breathing short, measured breaths that Max could feel with every intake. She stood there, not daring to move as Iggy waited, and slowly she could feel herself being undone: her breathing became slightly harsher, her lips trembled, her eyes slipped closed as she waited for the blonde to make the final move. But he was a statue.

They stood like that, waiting, until finally, Max couldn't take it anymore. She all but threw herself forwards the final inch, fisting Iggy's teeshirt tightly. Iggy stumbled back a step but recovered quickly, holding Max around the waist.

Her mouth parted under Iggy's tongue as Max raked her fingers through his strawberry blonde hair. Iggy held her close, relishing in every swipe and difference in pressure, memorizing the girl's mouth. He'd waited so long for this - never actually ever thinking he would be able to experience it.

Max tilted and pressed closer, trying to deepen the kiss, but, as much as Iggy would have loved to, he couldn't. Not right now.

The strawberry-blonde moved his hands from Max's waist up to her arms, and gently held, pulling the girls away from him and reluctantly unlocking their lips.

Iggy knew his hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed, but it was nothing to what Max must have looked like. He could hear her panting, trying to catch her breath, and Iggy mentally self-fived. He made Max sound like that.

"I hated how those guys talked about you. I hate when guys - however creepy or attractive or whatever - talk to you because I can't do anything about it. I have no _reason _to stop them," Iggy paused. "But I want to change that."

XxX


End file.
